The Lost Ones. Anita Frank

The Lost Ones - Anita Frank


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to attend together. In a way I wish it had been the last time I had seen him. Perhaps it would all be easier if I could remember him like that – handsome in his dress uniform, laughing, a glass of champagne in his hand, carefree in the sunshine. But we were to meet once more, in tragically different circumstances.

      Hector’s apologies as he rose to depart brought me back to the present.

      ‘I’ll have your driver bring the car round,’ Mother said, tugging the thick bell-pull that hung by the fireplace. Hector crossed to her and bade her a fond farewell, but as he came towards me, running his cap through his fingers, he stopped.

      ‘Would you walk me out, Stella?’

      ‘Of course.’ I set down my teacup, taken aback by the unexpected request.

      We walked through the hallway together, Hector opening the large front door to allow me out onto the steps first. The sky had clouded over to an impenetrable white layer. Looking up, I could see the gauzy glow of the sun trapped behind it. A stiff wind cut through my clothing, and I hoped he wasn’t going to keep me outside for long.

      ‘I didn’t just happen by today. I very much wanted to speak to you,’ he admitted.

      ‘Oh?’

      He pulled the peak of his cap down low over his brow. ‘It’ll take my driver a while – shall we walk?’

      We crossed the gravel driveway and ambled over the lawn at the front. In the distance the lake stretched across the horizon, the wind rippling its surface. I noticed that Hector drew to a stop before we got too near, perhaps fearing its appeal might prove irresistible to me.

      ‘I’ve actually come to ask you a favour.’

      ‘A favour?’ I failed to mask my surprise. He might be my brother-in-law, but Hector was almost a stranger to me. I was already stationed in France when he met Madeleine at a fund-raising event in town. He was someone I read about in letters – a one-dimensional creation, a list of descriptive words. I met him for the first time at the wedding, when, selfishly perhaps, I was more intent on spending precious time with Gerald than with my new brother-in-law and the pompous entourage he brought with him. Since my return I had only seen him a handful of times, all brief encounters, where pleasantries were exchanged but little familiarity gained. But now he had come for the sole purpose of exacting a favour from me.

      ‘I was wondering whether you might consider visiting with Madeleine for a while – at Greyswick.’

      It was hardly an onerous request. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to visit my sister, and no doubt we would have come to the arrangement ourselves in a few weeks. I hadn’t seen her now for a couple of months and I missed her company and support, but I was alerted by the undercurrent I detected in the question.

      ‘Hector, of course I will. Is everything all right?’

      His eyes pinched as he focused on the skyline. I realised I was holding my breath, waiting for him to break the silence.

      ‘I’m worried about her.’

      ‘Why?’

      He seemed loath to answer. He pulled his cap from his head and raked his fingers through his neatly combed hair. I could tell he was biding his time, contemplating his response. I felt a spike of unease.

      ‘She doesn’t seem to be at all herself.’ The words spilled from him. He stopped. I was impatient to hear more, my concern acute now; my fingers flexed as I resisted the urge to shake him. Sensing my rising agitation, he stumbled on. ‘She’s so quiet and withdrawn. Mother’s constantly complaining about how jittery she seems, scared of her own reflection.’ He let out a sharp breath. ‘I think she’s terrified something’s going to happen – to the baby.’

      I relaxed at once on hearing this, rather relieved. It was perfectly natural of course that Madeleine should be unsettled. She had always been the more sensitive of us two, the one more prone to worry, to fear the worst – ironic really, given the way things had turned out.

      ‘Well, I’m sure that’s to be expected. It’s an anxious time for her – for any new mother – but I’m sure it’ll all be fine.’

      ‘Well, that’s just it, it might not be.’

      The reassuring smile I had mustered wilted under his grim countenance. ‘Why shouldn’t it be?’

      ‘We’ve been here before, you see.’ But it was clear to him that I didn’t see at all. He sighed. ‘Madeleine lost a baby, Stella.’

      My stomach plummeted. ‘When?’

      ‘Just before you came back.’

      We stood silent, the air heavy with the solemnity of this awful revelation. ‘Why didn’t she tell me?’ I asked at last.

      ‘You were – you were so unwell. It was early on … She didn’t want to burden you – after all, nothing could be done.’

      I brought my hand to my mouth. Dear, darling Madeleine! When I had arrived back, eviscerated by Gerald’s loss, Madeleine had flown to my side like the golden angel she was – compassionate, non-judgemental. She became my rock, my constant, unflinching companion. She had stoically weathered my rages and vicious words, stroked my head as I broke down and sobbed, and read quietly beside my bed as I lay motionless with grief. At a time when I had little inclination to carry on, she never gave up on me; even as others began to lose their patience, she alone defended me. And yet through it all she must have been nursing a terrible anguish. She had prioritised my recovery over her own devastating loss.

      ‘Oh, Hector, I’m so sorry.’

      ‘These things happen.’ He couldn’t prevent the tell-tale break in his voice. He took a moment. ‘It’s just, now – she’s not herself at all. I think she’s terrified of it happening again. She dealt with it so bravely last time, but she was devastated, Stella, absolutely devastated. To be honest, I think looking after you is what got her through. It was a welcome distraction from her own pain.’

      His words stung me. He flushed, realising how they could be misconstrued. To cover his embarrassment he fussed about, setting his cap straight on his head, before thrusting his hands into his trouser pockets and rocking on his heels, waiting for the clouded moment to pass.

      ‘Madeleine never wanted to go to Greyswick.’ He broke the silence, an apologetic glint in his dark eyes. ‘I had to plead with her to go. Now she’s there, I think she has little else to do but obsess on the worst. She keeps asking to come back to town, but I would never forgive myself if she got caught up in a raid. She’s safe at Greyswick, but I think she would benefit enormously from some company.’

      ‘She has your mother.’ The words slipped out before I could stop them. Hector picked up on my sardonic tone and winced.

      ‘As you are well aware, my mother is not the easiest woman to get on with.’

      I had only met Lady Brightwell once, at the wedding, and once was quite enough. She was a dour, self-important woman who revelled in the glory of her husband’s honorary knighthood. I could see that she would not make an empathetic companion.

      ‘Look, I would just be ever so grateful if you could go and keep her company for a while, take her mind off things. What do you think?’

      ‘Hector, nothing would give me greater pleasure than spending time with Madeleine, especially after what you’ve just told me.’ His motorcar drew along the drive behind us.

      ‘Please don’t say anything about me asking you to go and stay. I don’t think she’d appreciate my interference.’

      ‘It’ll be our secret. I’ll telephone her this afternoon and chide her for not inviting me to visit. After all, I’ve never seen your country seat.’

      He smiled. ‘I think you’ll like it, it’s a wonderful spot.’

      We reached the car. His driver leapt from the front and opened the rear door.

      ‘Oh,


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